Tainted
by Athiana
Summary: A young Magistrix willing to go to any lengths to protect and avenge her people travels to Dalaran to work past old grudges and end Malygos' reign. A forced encounter with high ranking Paladin tests her loyalty and pushes boundaries even she wouldn't dare to cross. Belf F/ Human M * M for Language. Later chapters Violence and Smut
1. Chapter 1

_This is my 1st story so please be gentle. Excuse the crazy amount of commas, I've cut out as many as I could but I always seem to overuse them. _

_M for language. Later chapters will have violence, though probably not overly graphic, and smuttiness._

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Athiana Tristana Dawnstar sat on her white marble balcony looking out over the center of Silvermoon City. Golden leaves floated about on the gentle breeze while fountains splashed water into the many intricately made fountains, sunlight warming the smooth stone streets. One delicate hand rested on the golden railing in front of her, the other held a book. It was 9:25 in the morning, almost time for her daily breakfast with her father. She stood, placing the green felt covered text on the glass table beside her, and stretched.

It was an absolutely beautiful day. She slipped her tiny feet into her shoes and made her way to the oversized dining room downstairs. Quietly closing the door behind her she followed the023 red and gold laced carpeted hallway leading to the double wide stairs at the center of her fathers house. He was sitting in his usual chair, one hand on the morning news, one hand holding his cup of coffee, his ears peaking from above the grey paper. He put it down as he heard her enter and gave her a small, unenthusiastic, smile. As she sat in her regular seat a breakfast of eggs, sweet rolls, assorted fruits and a large class of milk was quickly placed in front of her by their housemaid. She politely placed her napkin in her lap and began eating.

"What are your plans today darling" her father spoke as he picked his paper back up.

She hated the forced morning conversation between them. Since her mother and sister died he had trouble communicating, or really relating to her at all. He wasn't a cold man, he just...didn't know _how _to do it.

"I have my normal lessons until noon, then I'm going for a private session with Magistrix Landra." she used her fork to feed herself a grape. It was going to be a very long day. Landra Dawnstrider was a nice woman, but incredibly dull. Her afternoon would be hours of casting one spell over and over until it was cast perfectly, and on such a perfect day that was the last thing she wanted to be spending it doing.

"That's nice dear" her father mumbled from behind his elegant coffee cup. That would be the end of their insightful morning conversation.

Thalistan Dawnstar was a well known and respected Magister. His opinions and choices weighed heavy on almost everything that went on in Silvermoon. The mages were by far the most important group in the city and were treated that way. He wasn't unkind, but he was a hard man. While She knew he clearly only had the best intentions for her, the same exact intentions she had for herself, he pushed too much sometimes. She had little to complain about though. They lived in the most radiant area of the most majestic city in Azeroth. They had an enormous, stunning, home filled to the brim with only the best. She had a loving father who was important in her society, and she was quickly working her way up to being important as well.

Trista was an Arcanist, a lower rank, but still ranking, mage in her society. She had been training for most of her life to eventually be a Magistrix and have power among her people. Her 110th birthday was coming up in two days, and that day would be the day she came of age. Once she did she could finally be accepted into the higher ranks.

Her father rose from his seat, patting his mouth with his napkin, breaking her thoughts. "I have an important meeting I need to be off to." She nodded and he walked over and gently kissed the top of her head. "I will be home for supper, see you tonight." He gave her a small smile and walked to the door. "Oh, and Athiana, don't give Landra any trouble", and with a stern look closed the door behind him.

She sighed, slipped her shoes off to rest her feet on the chair across from her as she always did when she was alone, and finished her meal, occasionally tapping from the mana crystal in the center of the table.

* * *

Today the sun was shining bright, glimmering off all the gold and red throughout the city. The air was warm and dry and smelt of food. The sun felt exceptional on her face.

Trista was a small girl, very small for an elf. Standing only at 5'4, not including the ears of course, she was almost a foot shorter than many elven women and was much shorter than all of the elven men. When Orcs or Tauren came into Silvermoon, which was very rare and not that she ever got to get close to them, they towered over her. She was intimidated, something she disliked admitting. Her skin was pale, the color of ivory, hair falling below her waste, straight and deep red highlighted by the sun with short windswept bangs.

Her body type was much like her height, not very common among her people, the Sin'dorei or Blood Elves as they were now named. She wasn't as slim as many of the elves. Her hips were curvy and her breasts were full much like a Night Elf yet more proportioned to her small body. Unlike them though her waist, arms, and legs were much less muscled, and she had the token pronounced hipbones and collarbone. She was once told her body type was very desirable to most of the races across Azeroth. Little good that did her, it wasn't very attractive to Elven men, the ones that mattered.

She wore an exquisitely tailored jade silken dress that hung low in the front and brushed the ground like ocean waves. Her hair was tucked behind her ears, as always, and the only jewelry she wore was a dozen or so golden studs and rings up the length of her ears and a small High Elf crest necklace, which had been her mothers.

It stunned her that it had only been six years since her Mother and Sister were taken from her, though six years to an elf was nothing. Arthas had attacked her city and wiped out almost everyone and everything, forever changing all their lives. They lost their magic, they lost their city, they lost almost everyone they knew. While her kin had finally started recovering, Silvermoon was rebuilt, the Sunwell was restored, Kael'thas paid for his crimes and they as a people joined the Horde, Arthas was still out there. He was still alive while her family was not. She slipped her hand around her little locket necklace. She had never been big on revenge by her hand, she knew his fate was sealed and his ultimate end would come eventually. She had a few thousand years to watch it happen.

One hundred and ten would make her a fully fledged adult. Once she hit eighteen her aging slowed tremendously. While she was old in the world of Humans and Orcs, she was a child in the eyes of her people. She was almost a hundred years older than their fresh adults, yet they treated the long lived races the same way as their own. In their society they ignored elves real ages and treated them the same as their own young who had recently reached adulthood. The logic of short lived races amused her.

Bells rang loudly around her reminding the city that it was ten-o'clock. She let out an exaggerated sigh and walked towards the Sunfury Spire to begin her morning training.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The room she had her daily lessons in was filled with a dozen or so mages her age, none of which would probably ever advance past Arcanist. Three sat in a circle around the Burning Crystal in the center, draining or tapping mana from it in a trance, oblivious to the outside world. A couple of girls sat in chairs on the right studying a large leather bound book, all arguing over some minuscule point they disagreed with. She spotted her small group sitting on the far side of the room on a cluster of purple and silver pillows motioning her over.

"About damn time you joined us Tris" her friend Zaelsin spoke first. "I thought we'd have to attend this exhilarating lesson without you." He gave her a cocky smile. Nelmara yawned and slid to the side so Trista could sit between them. She had two close friends, and while she had many acquaintances who considered her their friend, only these two had her full trust.

Zaelsin Brightblade was a handsome elf, tall and lean with a nice amount of muscle tone and light blonde hair that was short and spiked. Handsome was definitely the first thing you noticed about him and it made him rather popular among the ladies. He had a personality to match. Zaelsin took nothing seriously, nothing. He was silly, almost to the point of being inappropriate. He was also incredibly cocky. He had been a friend to her for many years and was like the brother she never had.

On the other side, Nelmara Amberdawn was almost his complete opposite. She was smart as a whip, and skilled beyond her years. Her shyness and naivety made it so she had few friends, but Zaelsin and Trista were all she needed. She looked like a traditional Blood Elf, tall and wispy with dark brown hair she always wore up in a bun. Nelmara had lost both her parents in the invasion, and grew very close to her two friends in the aftermath.

Zael and Nel fit perfectly with herself, all filling in the personality holes the others didn't have. She was almost an exact meeting point between her two companions. She smiled.

Nel curled a small arm around hers. "What lessons do you have this afternoon? I have portals with Magister Kaendris." She gave a sour look crinkling her nose. The art of portals was something Nel had never been very good at while she had excelled.

"I have a private lesson with Landra, I'm not completely sure what about."

Zael snorted. "You know damn well what you'll be doing", he moved his hands and body imitating the Magistrix. "I know you've cast Fire Blast five-hundred times already but a few more!" mocking her voice. "Perfection!" he sang. Both girls snorted into their hands trying unsuccessfully to stifle laughs.

"It's going to be a dreadful afternoon, that's for sure." she laughed. They spoke idly until their professor arrived.

"Students students" the older mage spoke as he walked into the room. Magistrate Sylastor was normally a very calm man, patient with an astonishing amount of self control. Today was the first day she had ever seen him flustered. "Return to your homes, your parents will be waiting there." The students looked around the room at each other, not sure what to do. He huffed to himself in frustration. "This is not a test, go home. Now!" he spat as he spun around and almost sprinted out of the room. The three friends sat in silence as their peers slowly got up and started walking out.

"Well, shit, I guess we should head home" Zaelsin spoke up. She sat with her own thoughts. Her father had a meeting in Dalaran today, would he be home also? They walked together into the courtyard.

"Send me a parch when you hear what's going on" Zael threw over his shoulder as he made his way to his home on the opposite side of the Court as hers.

Nel looked around. "It's almost empty..." she spoke as her eyes wandered around their area.

She was right, it was almost empty. It was midday and it was usually bustling with activity. Anyone high on the hierarchy spent most of their time in the Court of the Sun since it was where the Spire was located, housing the Regent Lord and almost every important elf in Silvermoon. She waved goodbye to her friend and hurriedly made her way to her home. If her father wasn't there she'd send him a magical parchment to see if he knew what was going on.

"Anar'alah Tristana!" She recognized that voice. "Why are you not at home?"

She turned to see her agitated ex-boyfriend stomping towards her. "Today is not the day to being off on one of your irresponsible strolls, head in the clouds." He placed a hand on her shoulder and she forcefully shrugged it off.

"What are you going on about Kaendris, I never leave the city, I hardly ever even the leave the Court". She crossed her slender arms across her chest, drawing his gaze. The glow of his eyes intensified for a moment then promptly returned to normal.

"I just worry about you. Please, just do as I say this once and go home" his voice pleading but not losing it's arrogant superiority. If Zael was handsome, Magister Kaendris Sunsorrow was Kael'thas himself. He was tall and well built with perfectly golden skin. His face was beautifully angular and perfectly shaped. He had long hair which hung down his back, straight and as black as the night. He moved with the commanding grace of most elves, but with a testosterone filled masculinity most were missing. He was beautiful alright, and he was a complete asshole.

Kaen had the most appalling personality she had ever encountered. Two years ago his eyes fell on her and they hadn't left since. At first he had easily entranced her as he did almost any woman he came in contact with. It took a year for her to realize he was not what he appeared. He was older than her, already an established Magister and from a well known and highly respected family. When he went to her father to discuss an arranged union he had been all for it, and honestly, so had she. He was another way for her to climb the social ladder of her people, but he was unbearable.

It had taken 5 months for him to convince her to sleep with him, taking her virginity. She had assumed fireworks, tears, and hours filled with exquisite lovemaking. Lets just say it did not live up to her expectations. It got better as time went on, somewhat, and since he had been the only man she had ever been with she often wondered if sex just wasn't very good for women.

Personality wise, he was loud, and constantly spewed ridiculous opinions, which he clearly knew nothing about, out of every orifice. He was a classic hivemind, only following what the higher ups believed and supported, never questioning, never thinking for himself. He was arrogant, but most elves were. He wasn't a bad man, he wasn't mean or abusive, and clearly had feelings for her, but he was just not her type.

She had left him a year ago. She had thought she loved him, but knew at this point she never had. He claimed to still love her, but he loved nothing but himself.

"I was on my way home, see the direction I'm walking" she hissed sarcastically. He rolled his eyes and stood his ground. She gave him her well-known smug smile, turned and stomped off dramatically. Really mature, so much for hitting adulthood.

"Al diel shala, Tristana." Kaendris muttered behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Trista opened the huge, golden double doors to her home and stepped into the front foyer. Her father's staff rest on the wall nearby. It was taller than she was, golden with the classic Blood elf winged design at the top, a small red ball of light in the center. What would her staff would look like once she became a Magistrix?

She navigated through their puzzle of a home to her fathers office. Their house was ostentatious, far more than either of them needed. They had twelve bedrooms for two people, a gigantic kitchen along with two smaller ones, three dining rooms, four living rooms, a library, three offices, two entertainment rooms, a room specifically for their personal burning crystal, and eight full sized bathrooms. Honestly, she hadn't even been in half of the rooms in years. The most important thing to her father was having the best, the best home, the best things, the best daughter.

Outside of her own room the house was decorated in red and gold, like most of their rebuilt city. Everything glowed, everything had expensive satin curtains with gold embroideries and finishings. It was way too much.

After a journey down one of their many long hallways she tapped on the door of her fathers office. "Ann'da?"

"Come in Athiana" she heard her fathers voice speak through the door.

She hated her first name. Her father and most people who didn't know her closely called her Athiana, but to her friends she was Trisatana, the name her mother wanted to be her first.

Thalistan was sitting behind his massive marble desk, hastily scratching quill to parchment. As he finished he folded it, sealed it with their family crest, and blew into it, sending it magically off to it's receiver. How do people live without magic?

"I'm assuming you have not heard the news?" Her father scratched his head, moving his hands to his temples to massage them.

"No, I haven't. Sylastor quickly sent us home."

He reached to the side of his chair and pulled out a large map, spreading it across his desk. She stood and helped him flatten it. It was Azeroth.

"The mages have moved Dalaran to Northrend." He pointed to a large continent at the very top. "It is now floating high over the world, here." he placed a heavy stone map marker in a large area about center of the continent. She stayed quiet. "The Kirin Tor are asking for our help. Malygos has betrayed us. He has sentenced all non-dragon spellcasters to death." He took another marker and slammed it on the area all the way to the west. She leaned on the desk not sure, really, what any of this meant.

"Sunreaver wants our help, Rommath doesn't want to help him since the Kirin Tor did nothing as we were exiled." He sat back down rubbing his hands down his face in frustration.

Archmage Aethas Sunreaver was the first and only Blood elf to be on the counsel of six, the group that lead Dalaran and everyone under Dalaran's rule. While many elven mages had followed him the Magisters had not. Old wounds seem to constantly fester for the Elves. Rommath was the Grand Magister and if he said we weren't going to help we weren't going to help. We didn't have a Counsel, we didn't have voting, we had him, and he had not lead us astray so far.

"Lor'themar is going to overrule it I fear." His face grew sullen.

"Is that bad?" she picked up her own marker and smacked the Malygos marker away slamming hers down in it's place. "If Malygos wants to wipe us out he's no better than Arthas, we should want to stop him." she shouted angrily and sat down. How hypocritical can you be? Their lives were devoted to avenging their lost brethren and bringing justice to Arthas, yet they would do nothing as Malygos methodically wiped them all out.

He looked down at her with a hint, just a hint, of a smile. "You are correct, we should want to stop him, that's what Lor'themar said too." He leaned back in his chair. Regent Lord Lor'themar Theron had taken good care in leading the Blood Elves so far, and his opinion outweighed the Grand Magisters. What a fucking mess. At least he was standing up to do what he _knew_ was right. Grudges can't last forever.

"I have a meeting with the Magisters and the Diplomats," he paused looking annoyed. "When I return home I assume we'll have a decision." He stood and started collecting some belongings. She longed to go with him. She had never been to Dalaran, she had never been to Northrend, she had never been anywhere. She had an idea what would happen over the next few months. Her father and the Magisters would go off to Dalaran and fight the good fight. There would be internal bickering between the Kirin Tor, the High elves, the rest of the Horde, the Alliance...it was going to be a mess. She would be expected to stay in Silvermoon. 'Too dangerous.' her father would say. 'You aren't ready!'

"We have no idea to what lengths Malygos is planning to go to so we are keeping all underage mages inside. Do not leave the house." Trista stood in planned protest when he shot her the don't-push-me look and she slumped back into her chair. "I will be home soon." and with that he was gone.

She sighed. Two days, two days and she would be of age. Did two days really make some sort of difference? Of course it didn't, but even if she had been five-hundred her father would have tried to find a way to keep her inside. She gripped the crest resting on her chest. Yeah, well, he had every right to.

* * *

She eventually made her way to the room with their personal Burning Crystal. The Blood Elves had all had a terrible addiction to Fel Magic. Now that they have the Sunwell back, in a form, many had pushed their addiction down. She however had not. She was completely and thoroughly dependent. She knew if she ever lost control she could eventually morph into a vile Wretched, twisted and rotten from the overuse of magic, but she felt she had some control. She could fight off urges to a point but she never had to go very far to find a crystal.

While many saw Trista as just a normal, intelligent, and for the most part well behaved mage, she wasn't exactly as she appeared.

She was reckless. She was as naive as they came but was too overconfident. She always thought she had the upper-hand, that she was smarter than the energy she was dealing with. She may almost be 'an adult' but her instinct that she was untouchable was childish.

She had never been into alcohol, she was a lightweight so she had never pushed her luck when it came to spirits. She often used Bloodthistle though, not to the point of being a Thistlehead but often.

Her addiction to magic far outweighed it anyway. While many Blood elves were fearless when it came to arcane magic, something almost all other mages were cautious with, she was negligent in her practice. Outside of that, she also dabbled in some...darker things.

Not even Nel or Zaelsin knew how deep it went. While Blood elves didn't shy away from dark magic and actually embraced groups like Warlocks, mages, especially Magisters did _not_ mess with it. The first time she had seen a Warlock Life Tap, take their own blood and life energy summon unimaginable power, she knew it was something she was interested in. That type of power wasn't something to brush off because it was dark.

She satdown on a cluster of pink pillows and pulled out her endless bag. Seriously, how did people live without magic? She shuffled around until she found her little wooden case where she kept her thistle and ate a few. Stretching back she connected to the Crystal and started draining.

Magic draining was a feeling only Blood elves got to experience, and mages got to savor. All her senses came alive in an instant. She could smell it, taste it, hear the magic, all heightened by the Bloodthistle. Every nerve stood on end, her own touch sending jolts and shivers across her body. Her head swam as she closed her eyes and lost herself in the pull.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

A cool breeze blew through the outdoor courtyard of Stormwind's Keep. Soldiers, politicians, servants, and civilians were hurriedly making their way in and out of the fortified castle busily bringing news and being sent off to deliver messages. The city was alive and bustling. Many of the Alliance had already made their way to Northrend, the war had officially started. The cold, inhabitable continent served a challenge in itself, let alone having these people fight cultists and scourge and Light knows what else.

"We are taking our men North to help with the efforts. I already have many of my best officers there scouting out areas to make base. We think we will set up our main operations out of Icecrown. We will accompany Highlord Fordragon to the Borean Tundra and fight from there."

"The Paladins will be a great help with the Scourge, and we will be sending another wave of Alliance soldiers with you to keep moving through the continent. We need to have bases in every state, every corner. We must always know what's going on and have the jump"

Tirion Fordring and many of the top military leaders, including King Wrynn, gathered around discussing the coming months; Go to Northrend, set up base, start wiping out the scourge, kill the Lich King. Big alliance players always liked to make things sound easier than they really were.

Lieutenant Commander Liam Dawnbringer had accompanied Tirion to the meeting as his highest ranked, and trusted, officer. He didn't know why he bothered though, he was pushed to the side and ignored. If he hadn't come they probably wouldn't have to strain their voices to speak in hushed tones.

Liam was young, twenty-three, so was treated this way during important meetings even though he held a very high rank. He was a Guild Leader for probably the most important guild of the Alliance, he was an officer of the military, he was a Knight of the Silver Hand, yet somehow he wasn't important enough for their conversations. If he hadn't proved himself time and again he'd think he was only promoted due to his father, Eligor Dawnbringer, a war hero. He was a humble man for the most part, but he knew he had earned his place on that counsel.

Liam's main problem was he was immature in the eyes of his superiors. Being a Paladin was his life and he upheld their ideals but his idea of morality was different than many others, and they just attributed that to him being young. He was handsome, incredibly handsome. At 6'2 he towered above many Humans. He was well built and muscular with perfect proportions. He had light skin with golden hair that fell just above his shoulders. His eyes were soft with a hue of light blue not often seen. He had a wide, strong jaw that was never at least without thick stubble, and features that could have been chiseled out of marble. His sideways grin could melt a woman in place and his body language screamed testosterone.

The man wasn't with flaws though, he just covered them well. Liam had horrendous scaring all over his body. Burns, lacerations, blade wounds, and magic marks covered much of his skin. His biggest scar ran across his back from shoulder to hip, wide, dark, and was obviously deep. He could cover enough that it didn't make people uneasy but showed enough that they were attractive to women, giving him the valiant soldier look. And look they did.

Through the years Liam was somewhat of a player. He dated many women, never any for very long. He had an interesting sexual history with an empty love life. He was handsome, popular, successful and had no time or interest in a monogamous or serious relationship. A playboy attitude, especially from a Paladin, gave him an interesting reputation but the women didn't seem to mind.

He also favored the drink. He drank hard and often. While never losing control or really even getting drunk, it was still looked down upon. Being a Guild Leader meant most of his time was spent with that guild, especially in their Guild Hall, and most of them were not men and women of the Light. They drank so he drank.

Neither his alcohol consumption nor his promiscuity was a dark or evil thing so it never effected his connection to the Light. Since it didn't, he saw no need to stop, but it definitely effected the way those above him saw him.

He leaned back against one of the stone walls and tried to listen to their conference. Really, they had no idea what to expect once they got to that overgrown glacier. The mages haven't been cooperative since their blue dragon turned on them but the main objective would be to make it to Dalaran with as few casualties as possible and move out from there. If it was located where they claimed it was, it would be the perfect base...for both factions.

Varian hadn't been happy that the mages city was apparently opened up to the Horde now but in times of war, as King, he knew sacrifices were necessary. Taking a break from wiping out the Horde was a pretty huge sacrifice for him. Liam shrugged. The Horde were evil, almost as bad as the scourge. While his focus was on the Lich King he wouldn't turn a blind eye to injustice.

Liam came from a long line of Paladins. He himself had been a Knight of the Silver Hand before they had joined up with the Argent Dawn, now calling their group the Argent Crusade. He took his vows seriously. Unlike men of the cloth he hadn't vowed into celibacy or refused the drink, but he was a holy man. He worshiped the Light as all Paladins did and took vows to hunt down evil and purge it, relentlessly. His goal was Arthas and bringing him to justice, but he couldn't ignore the other threats and his King wouldn't want him too.

Liam hated the Horde. He believed in righteousness and morality so he would never kill an innocent, but he saw no Horde besides babes as truly untainted. They were godless, savage, and dangerous. He also stood against many of the Alliance as well. Gnomes thrived on magic, something Paladins had no trust for. The Elves, he could go on for days why they shouldn't even be in the Alliance. The Draenei and Dwarves, for the most part, were much like the Humans. In the end, they needed allies and they worked with what they had.

But, now he would be sent to Dalaran leading his Guild into chaos and surrounding them with Mages and Horde. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Dalaran was the last place he wanted to go.

Tirion finished his conversation with the King and nodded at Liam to join him on their walk back.

"Varian agrees Dalaran is the best place to go. He said to get in contact with Jaina when we arrive and she will set us up." He gave Liam a sideways glace and he returned a nod. "I will be leading the Crusade while you will be leading your Guild. Varian feels it's more important for you to be with them, and I agree."

"As do I. We'll need more than Paladins to win this war and STK is probably the group that can do it."

They walked together a bit further until Tirion stopped outside the Stormwind Cathedral.

"We will be leaving tomorrow, by boat from our harbor. It's about a five to seven day journey depending on the weather so make sure your men are ready." He gave Liam's shoulder a pat. "I know Dalaran isn't a place you'll be comfortable in but Jaina will see to getting all of us a good place to stay, away from the Horde."

"I trust the Horde more than a city of mages" he grunted. Tirion gave him a sympathetic smile, said his goodbye, and made his way into the Cathedral.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Liam entered the enormous Guild Hall. The main room had lines of long wooden tables where the guild often feasted together, now the home of barrels and barrels of ale. It was decorated with banners, wall hangings, and rugs adorned in their Guild crest, a stag head, and the Alliance crest. A fire roared in the colossal stone fireplace at the far end of the hall that lit up the whole room with a comfortable glow, crackling loudly and spitting little clumps of burning wood. The smell of cooking meats, strong spices, and burning timber filled the air. Numerous hallways branched out of the center of the building. Some were rooms if any of the members wanted to bed down there, bathrooms, a war room where they conducted their main meetings, multiple practice rooms for all of the different skills and a couple of entertainment rooms.

Liam loved being a Guild Leader. Being a solider was nice and being a Paladin was honorable, but being a main guild player ment he always got to be in the fray. He liked being the first ones in battle or the ones called in for impossible missions. His father was already stationed in Northrend with the Argent Crusade, he was anxious to be there fighting along side him.

Their march through Northrend was going to be interesting. They really didn't have much to go on besides the Scourge was slowly consuming everything. He knew this Malygos would be high on their to-kill list but he truly didn't want to get caught up in the mages war. He understood they were useful, but would Azeroth really feel a loss if they were all...taken care of.

"Liam! Shit Ah was wondering when the hell ye'd drag yer ass back here." a short, fat little dwarf yelled and waved. He gave a grin and waved back. "Sit yer ass down an get a drink, it's damn good tonight!" he held up both fists holding two huge overflowing mugs and gave a wide toothy smile. Nothing beat being here. Everyone was drinking and eating, singing and slurring at the Night elf unsuccessfully playing a lute.

He waved at some of his mates as he made his way to the fire, and slumped into one of the large wooden chairs covered in bear furs. Adrina made her way to him with a large mug of ale, swaying her round hips. She daintily handed it to him and sat in the nearby chair.

"Rough day handsome?" She fluttered her eye lashes and shifted closer to him. "I waited around for you last night after supper but I guess you got busy, been a hectic time for all of us" she cooed at him in her farm girl drawl. He really wasn't in the mood for this woman today, he ignored her and continued staring into the fire.

His mind began racing trying to remember everything he had to do before the sailed off. How long would they be there? Would the mages be cooperative? How often will he be leading the Guild and how often will be doing work for the Argent Crusade? He loved being a Guild Master but he also loved being a Paladin and hating having to choose between the two. How much land had they already covered? How much land have the Horde already covered? His concentration was broken by the sharp string snapping of the now dead lute and the roar of drunken laugher following it.

"We'll be leaving for Northrend soon. Can you go spread the news so everyone will start preparing?" He took a swig of his drink and watched Adrina out of the corner of his eye. She gave a pout and stood.

"Yeah, sure." she whispered as she turned and walked towards the crowd.

Liam was the Guild Master of the Steel Talon Knights, the most revered guild of the Alliance and probably all of Azeroth. The Horde had some impressive guilds too, but he still felt they held a higher status. STK was made up of fifty or so men and women, including all races and professions besides Mages and Warlocks. He had a strong core of ten Officers and three Senior Officers who he almost always traveled with.

Quintin Fairbanks was Liam's best friend and most trusted comrade. A fellow human, he was an incredibly skilled warrior. He was taller than Liam and built like a bear with short black hair and a long scar over his left eye. They had been through hell and back together. Quin stood by him in every decision, every choice, every mistake, there was no one more loyal. Without him many of the achievements STK secured would have failed, he owed him much including his life...multiple times. They had met when Liam was still a pup, a new blood in the Stormwind military. Quin was 5 years his senior and took him under his wing. When they were both brought into STK together they were happy. When they were both promoted to Officers they weer ecstatic and when Liam was given the GM torch when their former GM retired Quin had been his biggest supporter.

Adrina Von Lois was a Human Priest. She and Liam had dated on and off over the years and had been his longest, most stable relationship. She was pretty, tall and soft around the edges. She had short brown hair that was cropped above her shoulders and gentle features. She was a talented healer and had often gotten their group out of sticky situations. Her infatuation with Liam was getting out of control though. While she knew Liam's reputation she gave him her virginity anyway, thinking he would stay with her out of principle. When he quickly moved on he broke her heart, but she continued chasing him. She knew one day he would want to settle down with a woman like her, pure, righteous, and a fellow worshiper of the Holy Light. They still had casual sexual liaisons but in the last few months he was seemingly becoming bored with her. In reality, he had become bored with all the women he fucked.

Broderich Tindriver was a Dwarven Hunter and was the funniest man Liam had ever met. He was a shameless alcoholic and womanizer. He had no manners or sophistication but he was an astounding hunter. He could hit a target with more precision and from a longer distance than anyone Liam had ever seen. He was skilled with traps and tracking which were also invaluable for his group. Liam had met Tindr in an Ironforge tavern, drinking everyone there under the table. They had an ale off and that had been it, they had been friends ever since. Tindr had never met a man who could keep up with him when drinking, that's all it took to earn his full respect and loyalty. His was almost opposite of everything a Paladin would stand for socially, but Liam didn't care. Actions spoke louder than words and Tindr was a good man.

Their group of four had destroyed any obstacle that came in their way, and Liam knew Northrend would be no different. They had planned to land on the West side of Northrend and make their way to...well, wherever Dalaran was located. The Alliance had expected an easy transition onto the ice patch when they sent their first waves of soldiers. Quickly they had lost contact and it had been weeks before they had men come back to tell the King what the hell was going on. The mages had said they were moving their city and in the general area they planned to move to, but they hadn't heard anything about it since. Liam was a planner and hating going into anything blind. What and who would they exactly find there? If Dalaran was floating...how the hell would they get to it?

He ran his hands through his hair. In a few days time he'd be freezing his ass off in unknown Northrend but for now he had drink, a warm fire, and a good nights rest to look forward to.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Tristana awoke to the sound of her father's music drifting from somewhere in the house, the song of pianos and violins echoing through the walls. The sun was already up and a sliver beamed on her face from between the curtains. She yawned, pulled her blankets up over her head, and buried her face into her pillow. It was way too early for this.

Yesterday hadn't been overly eventful. Lor'themar vetoed Rommath and called for the Magisters to move onward to Northrend. Her father had droned on for hours about their plan. Only a few would actually travel to Dalaran, the others would station with the Horde and start the move on Malygos. He would be leading a team to Coldarra, the apparent dwelling of the Blue Dragon, and work from there. Zaelsin and Nelmara would be advanced to Magister and sent with him so he could keep an eye on them. It was no coincidence he had left her name out of the conversation.

Today was Trista's birthday. She was now one hundred and ten and had all the prerequisites to be promoted to Magistrix. She was the best of her class, she was far more skilled than either of her two friends, and she damned deserved it for all the work she had been putting in. Though the odds were in her favor if she had been any other Elf, she wasn't just any other Elf. Her father's influence was deep and firm and could easily keep her at her lower rank if he intended it, which she had no doubt he had.

She decided not to bring it up yesterday, but she wasn't going to let it go today.

Tris groaned and rolled out of bed. She grabbed her robe and made her way to her barthroom. After a bath and the rest of her normal morning routine she sat down at her silver vanity table and began brushing her long red hair. She had no idea how exactly she would approach her father about the subject, but she knew she needed a plan for when he said no. If she came out with a thoughtful enough retort it's possible he would fold.

A tap came to her door.

"Athiana, do you have a moment?" It was her father.

"Come in Ann'da." She put her brush down and stood. Well, she wasn't going to get time to plan out an argument but she could be eloquent in a bind, and if all else failed she could always cry.

"Happy Birthday Darling" he elegantly walked to her and gave her a hard hug. He looked down at her not lessening his hold. "One hundred and ten! That's a big day." He smiled, kissed her head, and let go. "Your mother would have been so proud of all you've accomplished till now, as I am." She grinned.

"While I know you were probably counting on a party" he paused and idly walked through her room. gently touching various pieces of silver furniture as he went, "I have something better. Get dressed and meet me in my office." He gave another quick hug and left her.

She flew through her room, grabbing her favorite dress and a pair of matching flats. She was dressed and presentable in record time, almost running down to her father's office. The door was open so she made her way in. He was sitting behind his desk with a wrapped gift set on top. It was long, almost the full length of his massive desk, skinny, and misshapen. The gift was wrapped in emerald and silver glowing paper with a huge silver ribbon on top. He smiled at her, a true smile, one of the most genuine smiles she had seen her father give since her mother and sister's passing.

"Sit Athiana" her motioned her to the closest chair. She sat and stared wide eyed at the gift, a hundred possibilities racing through her mind.

"I know I'm hard on you darling, but it was always in your best interest. Today you are a woman, an adult, and you no longer need me to direct you, only to give you guidance." He stood and paced to the front of his desk. "You are an extremely skilled mage and you deserve this." His hand motioned to the present.

Trista went to it and started peeling back the paper. It glowed and spurted little flecks of light as she ripped it. She didn't realize what it was until it was fully unwrapped.

A staff.

She stood stunned, surveying the beautiful weapon. It was made of wood, crooked and curving with various straps and decorations up the length,. There were hundreds of small emeralds fastened throughout that lit up like tiny glow bugs. At the top the wood separated into four tendrils all wrapping around a huge magic orb that pulsed green to silver. Most Elves were obsessed with gold and all their staves were made of it, but gold had never interested her. While to them her staff would be shabby, it was the most magnificent thing she had ever seen.

"I...don't understand." She looked to her father.

"You are now a Magistrix Athiana, with all the responsibilities and privileges that go with that."

She beamed. This what not what she had expected. She assumed the fight her and her father would have to have before she'd be a Magistrix would be one of the history books.

"Thank you Ann'da!" She squealed as she jumped in his arms.

"Now, we have other things to discuss." He gave her a squeeze and put her down, motioning her back to her seat as he moved back to his. Back to All-Business-Thalistan.

"You speak all of the first languages of the Horde and all of the first languages of the Alliance. That means you would be most useful in Dalaran".

Her heart skipped a beat. She didn't want to go to Coldarra under the ever watchful eye of her father. In Dalaran she would have free reign. She wouldn't be the new Magistrix or the daughter of the Higher Up Magister, she would be Magistrix Tristana, end of story.

"If you accept you will be sent there. You will start in Borean Tundra with my group but will quickly split off with your own group. You will be the only Blood elf and the only mage, but the group I'd be sending you with are trustworthy. It will be a hard trip though, a long trip..much longer than mine-"

She interrupted him. "I want to go to Dalaran."

They sat for a few minutes in silence. "If that is what you wish."

She squealed again. Dalaran was going to be amazing! Northrend was going to be amazing! All the things she'll be able to do and see once she got there. She had _seen_ most races but not for any extended period of time. Dalaran was a melting pot of all the races and cultures and she'd be thrown right into the center. She would get to...what would she get to do?

"What will I be doing there?"

"A lot of the time you will be working with the Six to help with information between them and the Horde, especially to Lor'themar and Rommath. Other times you will be sent to fight. You will be theirs to use as needed and a Magi they can trust from the Horde who can communicate with all the Horde and Alliance races. Now, I won't lie to you, you will probably see less combat than many of our groups, but your position is just as important." He got out some parchments and started quickly scribbling letters to Sun knows who.

"When do we leave?" she caressed her staff.

"Tonight. We will make our way to Orgrimmar and take a Zeppelin to the Tundra. From there we will meet your group and take our separate ways." He continued writing. "It's best you go get ready, many have already left, us two, Zaelsin, and Nelmara will be the last to leave. They should be here in an hour or so. The trip will be long so we need to leave as soon as possible."

"I'll be ready in twenty minutes" she called over her shoulder as she hurriedly walked out the door.


	7. Chapter 7

_I'm really ready for my two main characters to finally meet but I don't want it to feel rushed and clumsy. Sorry if these chapters felt dragged out. Finding a flow is definitely the thing I'm struggling with most._

* * *

**Chapter 7**

Her father had been right, the trip took longer than expected. Much longer. Once she was packed and ready to go they met up with her friends and made their way to the Undercity and from there Orgrimmar. It took them three days to get to the Horde capital, three days of waiting around for the next wave of soldiers to be ready to take off to Borean Tundra, and five days, so far, on the zeppelin there. Yesterday the temperature was noticeably colder, today it was freezing.

Undercity had been cold and wet, she had never been to a gloomier place. Most Blood elves hated the dark and she was no different. They had stopped in the city while they were waiting for the Zeppelin to restock some basic supplies. The underground world was unnerving, to say the least. She had seen plenty of Forsaken, they were the Elves closest allies in the Horde, but she had never been around so many of them at one time. Their city smelt of mold and decay and had a cold emptiness she had never felt before. It wasn't just lifeless, it was soulless. The Undead hadn't been unkind, but she was anxious to be somewhere else.

She had been looking forward to reaching Orgrimmar, she had never been to the capital before and she was sick of the cold, but once they got there it had been easily over one hundred degrees. The Orc city was built into the orange mountains of Durotar which absorbed and radiated the suns heat. They kept to themselves during their short visit, not leaving the small inn they had all been staying in.

Kaendris had sent her a parchment while they were waiting around in Orgrimmar expressing his sadness that they hadn't been able to travel to Northrend together. It 'would have given them the personal time they needed'. She wanted to vomit in her mouth. Sick of his advances and feeling snarky after her promotion she sent him a parch back asking him to 'kindly fuck off'. She hadn't received a letter back.

After cold wet Undercity to hot muggy Orgrimmar, now they were back in the cold. She couldn't believe they weren't all drowning in sickness.

The trip so far had, for the most part, been pleasant. She had gotten to spend some much needed time with her father. He had kept to his word and had been treating her like an adult. He wasn't bossy or demanding. He didn't try and correct her constantly or nag her in that fatherly way. It was...nice.

They had spent most of their time just talking, something they really hadn't done much of. They talked about her Mother and Sister, about their life before Arthas' invasion, and about how much had changed. Most of their time he explained to her what her new responsibilities would be, both in Northrend and back in Silvermoon. Magisters held a very important place in their society and thus, she had become a fairly important person. While she wouldn't be given any huge responsibilities since she was only recently promoted, she needed to carry herself like she did.

He went on about what Dalaran was like and how to assert herself with the Kirin Tor mages. They apparently looked down on the Magisters for not joining their ranks, so in turn she had to act like she knew she was an equal.

"Do not let anyone push you around Athiana. Show that you know you deserve to be there and the fact that they need you shows superiority. Don't be snarky though, be respectful, you are still a Blood elf."

She had to learn the complicated ranks of the Horde, Alliance, and various factions within them. She already knew the languages which would be helpful in a city filled to the brim with all the different races, now she needed to learn the politics.

Each day on the Zeppelin drew on and on since they didn't have much to keep them entertained. The sleeping was cramped, the meals mediocre, and Nelmara discovered she had terrible motion sickness. It was nice being able to spend quality time with her friends and father, but she was starting to get cabin fever.

Two days into their trip she had ran out of Blood thistle. This didn't bother her too much since she knew she needed to break the habit anyway, but she also hadn't brought a mana crystal with her. Her father had brought a small one he always kept in his coat pocket and she had been sneaking hits off it but it barely sated her. Once she got to be in constant battle, as long as her targets had mana, she'd be fine. All this traveling was slowly wearing on her until then though.

* * *

Tristana had spent most of her days out on the upper deck, looking into the clouds or out over the ocean. She sat on a ledge, back against a pillar, one knee to her chest and the other leg hanging over the edge. She opened her hand, flicking a small ball of fire to life and closing it to smother it repetitively.

"Hey Tris" Nelmara skipped over and plopped down next to her. It was clear they were getting close to Northrend with the massive amount of icebergs they had began flying over.

"They said we should hit land anywhere between two and four hours." She turned and looked over the edge, turning an pale shade of green. "If we're still at least two hours away and it's this cold I can't imagine how cold it's going to be when we get there." They both pulled their overcoats around them tighter.

"You're going to a place called Coldarra, what were you expecting?" They giggled.

"You are sooo lucky you get to go to Dalaran! It's going to be amazing. You'll get to meet so many people!"

"Yeah she is!" Zael called as he entered the deck from the lower level. "We'll be freezing our balls off as she's Wining and Dining the Horde and Alliance aristocrats. He sat down next to Trista and stretched his legs. "Shit, I would have studied languages too if I had thought they would ever be useful" he scoffed crossing his arms behind his head.

"This is probably a shocker but intelligence and knowledge is always useful" Tris laughed and shoved his shoulder.

"Yeah yeah", he frowned. "Really though, when's the next time we'll even see you".

"I have no idea. I guess it's possible at some point I'll get stationed near you. I assume once you go in for Malygos I'll be there."

They all murmured their agreements.

"You know" Nel turned so she was facing both of them, "This will be the first time we've all been apart since...I don't even know when."

Trista nodded gloomily.

"Eh, we'll parch to each other every other day or something" Zael scratched his head. "We know you can take care of yourself and I'll take care of Nelmara" he grinned. "Besides, Tris is the one that will be getting into alllll kinds of trouble. Alliance General assassinations, wild liaisons with the local Orc war hero, leading the revolution against the Dalaran government, the possibilities are endless."

"My time will probably be spent translating basic messages, conjuring food, and trying to learn their portals. I'd be surprised if my days are exciting compared to yours."

The heaviness in her stomach grew as they loomed closer to land. Trista spent the next few hours just watching the ocean below them. She was just noticing she had been seeing more and more wildlife when one of the Goblin's running the Zeppelin called out they would be pulling up to port soon. The three friends ran to the bow to watch as they flew into the new world.

It was unlike anything any of them could have ever imagined.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The continent really was made of ice, gorgeous blue ice that shimmered in the dim light. It was gloomy and overcast which she had expected but the air had a unique crispness. Borean Tundra was unlike anything she had ever seen. The east side was covered in snow. The middle had various colors of vegetation, lakes, and small bluffs. Far to the West she could see what looked like salt flats with tall shooting geysers. Coldarra was to the north, it's own little ice island built up high on the side so she couldn't see well into it, only some type of giant tower rising from the center. They flew past a keep that was clearly the alliance base and could see the Orc Stronghold not too far off from where they were.

"Look at this place," Zael spoke first, "and we all thought Silvermoon was the best looking place on Azeroth."

"Look at all the different creatures!" Nelmara pushed herself further over the railing to see better, Trista grabbed one of her arms just in case.

They stood in awe, taking in their new surroundings when her father showed up to tell them to get ready They split up and ran off to their rooms to collect their belongs. Elves were private creatures. While some races would bunk up in large groups to save money or space Elves liked their own quarters. When they had to camp on the trail they made sure to have their own tents, most of them magically enchanted to be sound proof or only letting the owner enter. She had been friends with Nelmara for many years yet they always naturally went to their own space at night. She thought about her traveling group, she doubted they would be staying in many fancy inns and she had no tent. There was no other way to imagine the trip than unpleasant.

Trista stuffed all her clothes and trinkets skattered through her small living space into her her backpack. Her head was pounding, it had been all day. Magic withdrawal. Without anything to sate her hunger she closed her eyes and rubbed her temples until the pain had passed. Mana tapping creatures as she fought her way through Northrend wasn't going to cut it, she needed a crystal. Nelmara and Zaelsin had left theirs back at home, they had no 'addiction' anymore and didn't need them. Hopefully she would be able to fine a Blood elf encampment somewhere on her journey within the next day or so. She threw her bag over her arm and made her way back up to her friends.

Warsong Hold was giant, made of forged metal and rock and reached hundreds of feet into the air. The fortress was protected by neighboring towers, gates, and walls and was centered in a large stone quarry. The main fortress was opened and housed a large dock so the Zeppelins could easily fly in and out. The Zeppelin pulled into port and the mass of Horde were herded off to their respective areas. A group of Orcs made their way to a commanding officer directing them to the lower levels. A couple of Trolls walked together to a huge elevator that lifted them quickly to the top of the building. Her father tapped her arm and motioned the young Elves over to one side, out of the way.

"Welcome to Northrend kids". They all looked around the fortress in awe. The amount of Orcs, Trolls, and Tauren running around made her nervous, she was so small compared to them. The building smelt of brimstone and was quite warm, heated by all the forges. There were a few Elves scattered around, but not many. They were definitely the minority, and definitely the only mages.

Thalistan led them off down a hallway to a private room. Inside held a mammoth war table with the Horde crest carved into the center. Around it sat a Tauren, an Orc, and an Undead. Her father walked over to shake their hands, only the Tauren returning the gesture.

"Athiana, these are your escorts". Zael bit back a laugh, Nel threw her hand over her mouth with a small gasp, and Trist just stood there in shock.

The Tauren was absolutely huge, at least three times her size. He had brown and white markings with a thick snout and a giant ring through his nose. He was clearly a warrior, wearing heavy plate armor and had a colossal shield that leaned up on the side of his chair. He gave her a warm smile. He was big, and he was imposing, but he had kind eyes, light orange and soft.

The Orc was a Shaman. He was tall and muscled with deep scaring all over his body, obviously well versed in war. His head was shaved outside of a long black breaded ponytail out the back. He had tattoos and piercings all over his body and stood staring at her with his giant arms crossed over his chest. He didn't look very friendly...or patient.

The last of the small group was the Undead. He was a skinny little guy, his skin barely hanging onto his protruding bones. He was a rogue in full black leather armor and had two steel daggers hanging at his side. His eyes were only little balls of light, glowing yellow in the dull light. His smirk would normally have frightened her but she sensed no evil from behind it.

Three men. She had been expecting a larger company, or at least a more diverse group. She knew she wouldn't be with another Blood elf or a mage, but this was still unexpected. Mercenaries are probably very honorable, she thought to herself. They are payed to kill someone or move something and they make sure to follow through with it. She calmed herself down with her thought process. Of course she would be safe.

Thalistan spoke up as the silence turned awkward, "I trust them with your life, they will get you to Dalaran quickly and painlessly. They have already made the trip back and forth multiple times." He patted her shoulder as the undead shook his head in agreement.

"Don't worry gorgeous," he spoke up, "we won't let anything happen to you."

The huge Orc stood. "I am Garvon, the cow is Arnak, and the walking corpse is Mortis", the undead bowed. "We've made this trip a dozen times now" he grumbled in Orcish, "You'll be fine."

She gave her best fake smile and nodded. "We'll be leaving in the next thirty minutes so she'll be ready then" her father said. Thirty minutes! He put his arm around her shoulder and led her out of the room as she heard the men laughing behind her.

* * *

"I know they're a bit rough around the edges" her father spoke again as he closed the door, "but I know they will get you to Dalaran safely, that's all that matters." She hugged him. She had never been away from Silvermoon and she had never been away from her father. "You will be fine Athiana, I promise."

He sat her down and quickly went over the many hours of information he had poured into her during the trip. She listened intently, these points obviously being the most important. She wished she had taken notes all the times he had lectured her. Names were most important, followed by ranks and places. The Sunreavers, the Blood elf subsection of the Kirin Tor was going to be her lifeline. She thought she would be sent to Jaina Proudmoore but with the Horde and Alliance relations backsliding she would be under the care of Sintharia Cinderweave instead, a high ranking member of the Sunreavers.

"Every other day Tris." Zael poked her after her father had finished their talk and hugged her goodbye. "I mean it. Don't make me have to go back and forth to Dalaran every few days to track you down." She threw arms around his neck and squeezed him tight, giving him a small peck on the cheek as she let go.

"I will, don't worry." she teared up as she hugged Nelmara. She really would miss them.

"Stay safe Tris."

"Take care of my father" she smiled as they collected their things to leave. "Don't take out Malygos without me!" She yelled as she watched them join a small group of Horde and make their way out of the city.

She made her way back to the room housing her companions for the next few weeks at least. Sucking in a breath, she opened the door.


End file.
